


Café Fellows

by AnonymousHeavyIndustries



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Anal, Blowjobs and Coffee the breakfast of champions, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Talk, M/M, Manhandling, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pining, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousHeavyIndustries/pseuds/AnonymousHeavyIndustries
Summary: How do you take your sluts? Black, sugar, or cream?Sousuke goes to a blowjob café and finds himself fancying one of the hosts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Cocktober, girls and ghouls. Have a whole heap of blowjobs and some [tunes to fuck hookers to.](https://youtu.be/KOvcLigP7FM?t=44s)  
> Now with expanded scenes for expanded dongs.

Maybe it was the constant invitations to strip clubs from his coworkers. Maybe it was the unsubtle flyers for call girls that he always found crammed in his mailbox or perhaps he finally got bored enough to expand his horizons, but regardless of a single impetus, Sousuke found himself wandering through the neon/concrete forest of Shinjuku Ni-chome, searching for a place where attention could be bought and satisfaction was guaranteed.

He was no stranger to the neighbourhood—he had a bar of choice and a couple clubs he drifted between when he wanted a fling—but tonight called for something different. He didn't know what yet, but figured he'd know when he found it.

The few places of interest he recalled had closed up shop long ago, replaced with safer, less intriguing ventures. According to the members of the old guard he'd met, the number of gay spots had been on the decline years before he'd arrived in Tokyo, drowned out by hetero-friendly establishments, business offices, and bigger clubs who could afford the surge in rent following the opening of the Fukutoshin Station, further strangled by the rise of hookup apps and the ongoing invasion of predatory straight women hunting for GBFFLs—homos, gotta catch em all!—romances to swoon over, or a looker they could fuck the gay out of so as not to disappoint society. He'd been accosted by all three types during his years in Nicho and for the second time tonight, a small group of fujoshi asked if he knew where they could watch men fall in love. He pointed in the direction of the musclechub bar that'd given him the boot five minutes ago for not being fat or beardy enough and carried on his merry way.

After an hour of lackadaisy wandering, his need to pickle his liver gnawed hard at him and he considered retreating to familiar territory to restrategize. Plans worked best for him, he was a creature of habit and precision who preferred clear, objective goals. _Technical minded,_ he'd always assured himself. _Too stupid to find your way out of a paper bag,_ his high school Romeo had retorted after watching him get lost at his own school for the two dozenth time. He'd gotten better about it as he got older; he'd only gotten turned around five times tonight. Practically a record. He urged himself to go two more minutes and as the signs began to blur together for want of a stiff drink, a board caught his eye. Café Fello, ¥5000 for Coffee Service, printed in looping English script and signed with a kiss. The other side of the board had a collage of employee headshots, mostly men prettier than any woman he'd known growing up, but tucked between the airbrushed cheekbones and impeccable dye jobs were the faces of a few less intimidating men. He crouched, getting a boost of light from his phone as he tried to pick out the hyacinths from the lilies.

"You'll get a better look if you come inside."

The voice was bright, smiling, and when he looked up, there was a woman carrying a stack of flyers emblazoned with the same kissmark logo standing before him. Sousuke followed her into the complex up half a dozen flights of steep, narrow stairs, passing clubs and salons with names esoteric and nauseatingly cute in equal measures, often interspersed with fractured English. From the outside, the café would have been indistinguishable from the other suites if not for the sign on the door, while the interior was a replica of the kind of trendy, upscale café he might've been familiar with if he'd been the type inclined to visit such places. (He was not.)

More importantly, he got his first real glimpse of the men on offer. Femmes, femmes everywhere and not a normal, fuckable guy to be seen except the dozing barista, who he doubted was for sale. To gaze upon them and their porcelain beauty was akin to walking into an elven forest. Their scorn was palpable, each flick of their long hair a backhand to the face. Mere mortals were useless to them; they were the efette elite, needing only a generous benefactor to fund their seaweed facials and gel polish manicures, a man who would open his wallet with a downtrodden 'yes dear.'

"Do you have—on the sign there were—fuck, I dunno. This was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time." Abort, abort, edge towards that door and run back to his comfort zone and never set foot in here again.

"Despite how it looks, we do have guys that aren't groomed within an inch of their life. We should have a seat freed up in a couple minutes, so feel free to look at the service menu while you wait." She handed him a small, laminated piece of paper.

Black Coffee....¥5000

_Oral sex with condom. 15 minute time limit._

Sweet Coffee....¥7000

_Oral sex without condom. Can ejaculate on model in location of choice.* Ejaculating in the mouth has additional ¥1000 charge. 30 minute time limit._

Cream Coffee....¥10 000

_Special time alone with model of choice.** 55 minute time limit._

Deluxe Cream Coffee....¥12 000

_Special time alone with model of choice** with bonus options. 70 minute time limit._

Refill....¥1000

_Time extension of 15 minutes. Cannot be applied to Cream Coffee Services._

_*Cannot ejaculate on body parts that are not exposed._

_**If model of choice is not available, the owner will try his best to match you with a satisfactory partner._

_***The type of service you order does not determine the type of beverage you'll receive. Any beverage can be ordered in any service package. Please try our pastries, they're delicious!!  
_

The waitress retrieved a tablet from her apron pocket and swiped to the current date. "These are the guys who are working today."

Twink, twink, femme, trap, terminal gayface... He began to doubt her claims of normalcy. The first decent guy was a redhead who gave off that aura that made dads reach for their rifles and he seized the opportunity, hoping that he wasn't occupied.

"I wouldn't recommend that. He's very... intense. Not the best match for first-timers."

"I can do intense." If he was going to pay for sex, he might as well get someone who was into it.

"A lot of guys say that before they actually meet him. Besides, he's not on shift right now." She flicked through the page a few times before letting out a satisfied chirp and grinning at him. "I think I have just the guy for you. I'll bring him over so you can see if you're comfortable with him. If not, then I can schedule you to meet the other guy later tonight or on another day."

"You don't have to do all that."

"I don't, but I want to. I have a thing for shy guys."

He wasn't 'shy.' He was an excellent conversationalist after getting to know a person—or slamming back enough vodka—but he'd rather not make more of an ass of himself trying to rebutt the alleged shyness. "So, this guy. He's good?"

Stupid question, asking a girl how good a guy was at sucking dick.

"He'll make you feel right at home."

He waited a few minutes before she returned with his partner for the evening. He was tallish, on the lanky side, with sex-mussed hair and a shirt the kind of purple you could only get away with in the nightlife. Normal, for a playboy.

"Where have _you_ been all my life, handsome?" The man turned to the waitress. "Chigusa, I told you that you can't give me such cute guys. I'm gonna fall in love."

This was the nicey-nice bit they were obligated to spout, even if he'd been a fat old queen wearing enough makeup to paint a runway. He wasn't so good with disarmingly charming folks, those vipers who'd bite your heel as soon as kiss your cheek. People who looked that happy all the time couldn't be trusted. But with this guy, part of him wanted to believe he was genuine. Something in that smile of his.

"The name's Kisumi," he said with a flourishing, overdeep bow. He glanced up. "You can make the joke, I don't mind."

 _Kisumi._ Sousuke's eyes drifted to his cupid-bow lips, catching a flash of chiclet teeth and the soft tongue that would be wrapped around his cock shortly. The tongue flickered out to wet his lip and Sousuke's breath caught in his chest. He'd seen his fair share of pretty mouths, but this trumped every last one.

"Yamazaki. Nice meeting you."

"Let's have ourselves a chat. Did you place your order already?"

"Black Coffee for service and a black coffee to drink. Decaf. I have to get up early."

Kisumi led him to a section of the café walled off with folding screens. Behind it was a small table and a pair of seats, nothing fancy. "Welcome to my parlour, said the spider to the fly."

"I'm a fly, huh?"

"A very cute fly. Wouldn't swat you if I could. Unless you're into that." Kisumi gave him a stinging slap on the thigh, then smoothed over the sore spot.

"Does everyone get a special room or just you?" He'd seen a few men being serviced in the central area.

"The partitions are for guys who like a little more privacy. I thought you'd prefer that."

"You thought right."

Chigusa brought the coffee and a lidded bamboo basket and explained that the session would start once she left, which she promptly did.

Wasting no time, Kisumi brought his chair closer and reached under the table to stroke him through his pants. "Tell me about yourself."

It'd been a while since he'd gotten any action. His game was rusted, weak. Did he even need it with a prostitute? Far as he knew, he could say that he was a serial killer who specialized in murdering children and the guy would fawn all over him anyway. "I... I'm not native, if the accent wasn't enough of a giveaway. Come from a village in the middle of nowhere. I work in construction. My hobbies are lifting and sleeping. And I'm a Virgo, if that matters to you."

"I'm a Gemini. Not the most compatible, but I don't think stars know much of anything about how people really work."

"Astrology's bullshit, yeah. Same for blood types. I got shot down for not being O- once."

"He must've won gold in the Dumbass Olympics. No clue what he was missing out on." Kisumi squeezed Sousuke's bicep with a twenty-four carat smile. "Big, strong men are the best for cuddling with."

"I wouldn't really know."

"Don't go for guys your size?"

"Don't go for anything that's not my hand most of the time." At least not lately.

Kisumi lifted the hand from Sousuke's lap and cradled his cheek with it. "It's a nice hand. I'd be committed to it too. But you have been with guys before?"

"I've been around the block a few times."

"Experienced guys are nice. They know what they want." Kisumi turned Sousuke's hand, nipped his fingers. "But I bet a working man like you must get real pent up." He squeezed Sousuke's cock, making him suck a sharp breath through his nose. "Not a lot of time to get out to the club."

"Mmhm."

"That's fine. I'm gonna take real good care of you. Treat you how a man should be treated."

Slowly Kisumi undid Sousuke's fly, bringing his halfchub into view. He turned it to and fro, examining it as if he was a scientist studying a fascinating specimen. Searching for sores, dickcheese, or unwanted discharge, he supposed.

"Nice, you actually keep yourself clean. My last guy had a bunch of—no, wait, you don't want to hear about that. It was super gross, you'd puke your guts out, I swear." Kisumi pulled a warm washrag from the bamboo basket to clean his cock. "Give the coffee a taste. Our service isn't the only good thing about this place."

As a working class schlub who couldn't tell the finer differences between a Colombian and an Ethiopian and drank whatever crap someone thought to haul to the worksite to kick himself awake, he had to admit to being impressed, though not as impressed as he was by Kisumi. He was easy to talk to and a looker to boot, the kind of guy he'd be happy to make breakfast for after a one night stand.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Kisumi murmured, tapping the helmet with his fingertip. He plucked a condom out of his pocket as he stroked him up. "Lucky me, you've got a big'un. The others are gonna be jealous."

Jealous, as if sucking his cock was an honour and privilege—which to be fair, was true—but even in his masturbatory fantasy he was willing to concede that Kisumi undoubtedly bagged 10s in his free time.

Down came his mouth, bringing an intoxicating heat as his lips closed around him in a portrait of near perfection. Thanks to the condom he couldn't feel the delicious slickness that he loved most about oral and part of him wished he'd shelled out the extra two grand to feel him for true, to know the individual tastebuds pebbling under the rim of his cockhead as it slid into the depths of his throat. Even so, he'd never felt this comfortable while getting head. He sat back in a regal sprawl, legs spread wider than they ever could in a supply closet or the backseat of a tiny shitbox car. This was the life. Work hard, drink hard, get laid.

Uncaring if he was violating some invisible professional boundary, he carded through Kisumi's hair. Normally bottoms got bitchy when he tried to play with their hair, tolerating it only because they hated not getting fucked more, so he'd decided to not give a shit if he was allowed to or not, drowning out their petulant _Do you know how long it took me to do this?_ and the _Stop it, your hands stink like booze_ with the sublime relaxation that running his fingers through waves and whorls brought him. Kisumi certainly wasn't complaining, one hand twisting at the base of his cock, the other massaging his knee, landing him square in his good books. This guy might be a keeper.

Moans from the main room wove into the background bossa nova and the murmur of distant traffic, the clink of coffee cups and Kisumi's slurps, his fleeting upward glances dragging Sousuke deeper, deeper until nothing was left but the two of them. An electric tingle ran from the top of his scalp to the tip of his dick and he was struck by a belated realization that he'd been entranced, Kisumi's calculated movements melting his tension, unwinding the knotty musculature bound up by stress and hard labour. He closed his eyes and sank into the seat, stroking Kisumi's soft, fluffy hair and focusing on the warmth resonating from his cock. It could've only been better if he'd been having a proper drink.

He knew the clock was running out when the sucks came harder, faster and was dully aware of calling for a time extension so he didn't have to finish sooner than he wanted. The languorous pace resumed, cheeks hollowing, humming, vibrations crawling up his spine to assume direct control over his pleasure centre, orchestrating the steady swell of pressure in his abdomen. His muscles retensed, cockhole yawning wide as the dam inside of him cracked, then shattered. He came with a low grunt, pulling Kisumi in close to gulp on him until he finished.

His body was overrun by a tired refreshment, pliable as fresh dough and ready for a nice, long sleep, and it was with great reluctance that he woke from his post-jizz stupor. Kisumi pulled his face out of his lap and opened his mouth. Sousuke expected to hear the typical, _Was it good for you?_

"Do you have a spirit animal?"

"A what?"

"An animal who represents who you are as a person. I was trying to figure out what you'd be." He peeled off the condom, admiring the sizable load pooled at the bottom. "Sorry if it's a dumb question. My mind goes weird places."

Wasn't hairy enough to be a bear, wasn't friendly enough to be a dog. "I dunno. A whale shark, I guess."

"Likes eating a lot? Looks more dangerous than he is?" Kisumi reached up and stretched Sousuke's cheeks. "I can see the resemblance."

Sousuke startled himself with his laughter and pinched Kisumi's cheeks in retaliation.

"You have a cute laugh. I like it."

"What's yours? Your spirit animal."

"People always told me I was foxfaced."

"Troublemaker, huh? I guess I should watch my back around you."

"I play nice," Kisumi's mouth quirked into a simper, "most of the time."

Chigusa tapped on the screen, signalling the end of their session.

"Come back soon, okay? I'd really like to see you again." There it was, that flawless smile.

He'd had no plans to make this anything more than a one-off venture, but even so, he found himself saying,"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

—

His usual haunt was a hole in the wall in Nicho. Nice enough to keep the scummy fucks out, cheap enough to not make his wallet weep, seated fifteen max, so the rowdy boys who hunted in packs avoided it—granted, you could hardly find it unless you knew exactly what you were looking for, same as most decent bars, but unlike them, it didn't it didn't cater to a specific type, happy to take your money as long as you didn't make a fool of yourself.

Nanase was sitting, as always, at the far end of the bar with a sketchbook and a scattering of pencils next to his vodka tonic. The spot beside him was empty.

"Mind if I take this seat?" Sousuke asked, already half-in.

Nanase didn't so much as glance at him. "You're alive."

"You say that like you're disappointed."

"I am."

"Ouch. I've bought you, what, a hundred drinks by now and this is how you treat me?"

"I've bought you more." Nanase went on sketching, eyes flicking between the page and the fishtank installed in the wall.

"You're too in love with that thing." He turned to the barkeep and ordered a Horse's Neck. "How's life with you?"

"Work is work. School is school."

"Same here, minus the school. Making headway on that project you were talking about last time?"

A guy with hair slicked back with pomade edged into the narrow spot between Nanase's elbow and the wall. "Hey, I always see you around and I thought I'd—"

"Fuck off, we're trying to have a conversation." Sousuke slung his arm over Nanase's shoulder and scooted closer, meanmugging the intruder until he slunk back to his table. "No manners, these guys. Why's it always you they go after?"

"You have a fat head. It's unattractive."

"If I got a big head, it's cause of all my brains."

Nanase snorted. "All those brains you use doing monkey work."

"Better monkey work than slaving away in an office for the rest of my life."

"True," Nanase conceded as he tried shrugging the arm off. "You can stop molesting my shoulder."

"Never. It's mine now." Sousuke squeezed, feeling hard bone pressing through Nanase's skin. "You're gonna wither away into nothing at this rate. You should hit the gym. I'll take you as my plus one."

"Deadlines."

"Your deadlines can suck a donkey dick, I need an armrest."

Nanase flipped his pencil and poised the point in Sousuke's face. "I wonder if I could sharpen this in your eye socket."

"No grabassery at the bar. Take it to the bathroom if you're that desperate," commanded the bartender as served Sousuke's drink.

"Don't worry. He doesn't have an ass to grab." Sousuke deflected the pencil and clapped Nanase on the back.

"You're in a disgustingly good mood."

"I met a guy."

Nanase gave one of his rare noises of approval. "Where?"

Sousuke hesitated.

"He's a stripper."

"No."

"Prostitute."

"...Kinda."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Fuck prostitutes? It's my money, I'll spend it how I want."

"Don't get emotionally involved with them."

"You make it sound like I'm in love with the guy. I just want to get to know him better. He treated me like he was into _me_ , not my money or my image."

"That's how anyone who wants to get into your pants acts. Even if they're being paid to do it."

"I would think that a prostitute wouldn't give a fuck and want to get it over with ASAP."

"Maybe if they were shit at their job. It's better for the customer if they pretend they're into them. That's how they get repeat business."

"Well aren't you the king of water trade. I didn't think you were the type to need that kind of service with how many thirsty fucks are after you."

"I don't, it's common sense. Happy customers come back." He wasn't indignant, merely matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, but you know that feeling you get when someone's bullshitting how interested they are in you? I didn't get that with him."

"Okay."

"That's it? I finally found a guy who doesn't want to hop on my dick like it's a thrill ride cause of how I look and all you can say is 'okay'?"

"As long as you're happy."

"But you think it's a bad idea."

"Terrible."

"God, I need better friends."

—

Ten rolls of bog paper wasn't enough to clean up the shitshow work had become. He'd gotten a gangly teenager dumped on him and was told that he was some investor's kid and that he was supposed to show him the ropes. Some junk about the kid's old man being annoyed that he wasn't more of a man and while he'd been sympathetic upon hearing the sob story, the reality of the person killed it quick. The kid had the strength and stamina of a toddler, an amazing inability to measure cuts properly, and an irrational fear of every power tool on site. Even his frequent coos of how strong and cool Sousuke was began to grate after a while, but to his credit, he soaked up almost everything he was taught like a sponge and had a good attitude. He just had to stop flinching every time the chop saw fired up.

On top of his newfound overseeing duties, the boss had been a real cunt, riding his ass twice as hard as anyone else's and holding him responsible for every little mistake the kid made. He'd been staying a couple hours late every night to correct fuckups ever since he'd been assigned to work with him and getting squat for it. His old standbys of drinking and playing the one man hand band weren't enough to keep the edge off, so when next payday came around, he paid his rent and returned to Café Fello for another Black Coffee. And then the payday after that. And the one after that. And then it became a weekly thing.

It was nice to have someone he could touch who would touch back. Nanase, for all his antisocial charms, was averse to casual intimacy in a thoroughly traditional way—hands had a place where they belonged and that was at their owner's side—but Kisumi loved touching more than any other host in the café, he'd spent enough time watching the others at work to know that, and every minute he waited for him was worth it. No matter how salty he was at life, Kisumi was happy to take him back to their little compartment and work all the stress and tension out of him. Back when he'd spent most nights hitting up clubs to get some fuck, his relief had been short lived because those guys couldn't see him further than the end of their dicks. Kisumi _got_ him in a way those randos at the bars and clubs didn't, kept him set until they next met.

At the same time, the more he went, the less satisfied he was. The blowjobs, good as they were, weren't enough. The oral he'd gotten when he cruised like crazy had always been sans condom. There was something primal about cumming in a guy's mouth that bagged oral couldn't beat, but Sweet Coffee cost more than a week's worth of groceries even without the mouthcum. There was also the unpleasant possibility that Kisumi could be a bag of STDs and he didn't want to blow that much cash on an unwanted itch. It was a dilemma of the worst sort.

"Hey! It's my favourite guest!" Kisumi dragged him behind the screen to leave an invisible scorch mark where his lips met Sousuke's cheek. His mouth smelled of sweetness and antiseptic, honey-vanilla masking chlorhexidine. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Well, I'm here now," he said, careful to resist the lure of kissing him back—French kisses ran ¥600 per go—stalling for time. "Excited?"

"I'm always excited to see you. Especially since you've been coming to visit me so much." He draped his arms around Sousuke's neck. "What's with the bag?"

Referring, of course, to the large paper bag that'd drawn suspicious eyes from the staff. "I saw some stuff while I was out that I thought would look good on you. I don't know if it's against café policy or whatever, but... here."

Kisumi dug deep, pulling out shirts, slacks, simple jewelry—tasteful shit, not the cheap Chinese junk sold by wannabe rockstars that turned your skin green.

"I love it!" he said, setting his smile to stun. "You're the absolute best. I'm gonna wear it all tomorrow."

"Three shirts and two pairs of pants at the same time? That's a bold fashion statement."

"Layers are _in_ , Sousuke. I thought a gentleman with your distinguished tastes would know that." Back into the bag they went, folded into haphazard stacks. "Are we doing the usual?"

"Actually, I have, uh, questions." There was no neat way to segue into it. He hoped the gift was sufficient tribute to downplay the rudeness of the question. "About the Sweet Coffee service."

"Ask away."

"Are there still safety protocols of some sort or is it buyer beware? I don't think you've got anything, but... Y'know. A guy's gotta worry about that kinda stuff."

"It's fine. We get have to keep up to date tests and if a guy's got clear STD symptoms, we ask him to leave. We want you to have a safe, pleasant experience." Kisumi reached into his back pocket and brandished a medical form.

Sousuke skimmed over it. Everything seemed in order. "Cool."

"Sweet Coffee, eh? Where do you want to cum?" Kisumi asked as he unbuttoned Sousuke's trousers. He ran his tongue over his lips, anticipating.

 _Only ¥1000 extra to shoot it in his mouth,_ Sousuke's cock reminded him.

"On your face." His frugal side would not be silenced.

"Excellent choice." Kisumi dropped to his knees and brushed back his bangs. "Cute undies, by the way."

Gut punch couldn't begin to describe the sensation that shot through him when Kisumi's mouth met him, blindsided by a truck was closer. The warmth, the wetness, the springy tongue that conformed to his shape, it was perfect. He didn't care how much it cost anymore. It was worth it. More than worth it. Hips jerking, he sunk his teeth into his lip and stifled a groan, praising every god he knew because he surely must be blessed to have had this divine whore sent from on high to guide him on the path of righteous sex.

Kisumi twisted his head down his length, his sensual lips nesting in the musky brown pubes at the base of his cock, watching him with his bewitching eyes as he elevated him to a state of exquisite torment. He pulled off with a wet _pop_ and dove again, his throat undulating like a sentient creature hellbent on sucking the life force out of him. He didn't hum, but roared, shooting violent vibrations through the core of his body until he thought he'd shatter. _Pop._ Both hands went to his cock, twisting his shaft as his mouth lowered, kissing nuts swollen fat with unspent cum.

"Poor baby, look at all this tasty cum you've got trapped inside you. It must hurt. How long's it been since you last got off?"

"Saved it..." Sousuke groaned, unable to finish his thought.

"For me? How sweet of you." Kisumi swirled his tongue around his cockhead in the shape of a heart and down he went once more, each draw and _pop_ teasing and tormenting him until the tension in his belly had stretched to an unbearable thread thinness.

"'m close," he panted, trying to sound less desperate than he was.

Kisumi backed off and jerked hard and fast, training the gaping slit straight at his face. "Come on, honey, give it to me. Gimmie that cum."

Fireworks exploded hot and blinding bright in his skull, his guts melting into lava and erupting from his dickhole, layering hot stripes across Kisumi's sultry face, frosting his hair. He struggled to keep an eye open to watch the splatterfest, cock kicking back with each spurt like a shotgun. Five, six, seven—Kisumi taking it with pride—eight, nine, ten—shaking, waning now but still shooting—eleven, twelve, and with a sigh, the thirteenth shot dribbled over Kisumi's fist in a warm trickle.

Spunk dripped from Kisumi's chin as he licked the corner of his lip and ran his fingers across his face, painting streaks of white over his cheeks.

"Thanks for the present. Good facial products aren't cheap."

Sousuke's spent cock twitched. "Give me a few and I can guarantee total coverage."

"Twofers are against the rules, but I'm sure we can find a way to run out the rest of your time."

Kisumi sat astride his lap and lifted the hem of his shirt to expose the soft segments of his abs. It was obvious he exercised, but wasn't a total gym rat. Sousuke rubbed the patch of stomach reverently, tracing through the ridges and climbing the hills. This was how deep he wanted to stick it in him, root him straight to his core. He wanted to hear him moaning beneath him, to feel his skin hot against his own in every position he knew and then some, never breaking the bond between them. He bet he was tight, real fuckin tight, had the kind of hole made to bully dicks into giving up everything they had. They could fuck for hours and it wouldn't be enough, Kisumi would always want more, more, more, pushing him to his limits and beyond and how could he do anything but oblige when he wanted so badly to see what kind of faces Kisumi made when he was helpless to the power of his cock.

The more he played with Kisumi's stomach, the more Kisumi began to squirm. Ticklishness, he assumed, until the hardon filling out his tight pants set him straight. Kisumi flushed vivid pink, alternately embarrassed and aroused, pretending he still had control of the situation. "You naughty boy, you've got me worked up."

"Well then."

Sousuke upended him onto the table and tore his fly open, yanking his briefs down to expose his cock.

"A man's gotta take responsibility."

Before Kisumi could protest, Sousuke was sucking him down. His technique was rough since he was rarely on this side of the equation, but he made up for it with enthusiasm, savouring the rubbery helmet scraping the roof of his mouth on the way to his throat, the taste of pre salty on the back of his tongue. Sousuke hoisted Kisumi's legs over his shoulders to get in closer, grasping the meat of his hips to hold him steady. Kisumi clasped his hands over his mouth, blood rushing to his head as he hung over the edge of the tiny table.

 _Cum. Cum._ The thought pounded frantic in the back of Sousuke's mind. If he could get him off, that meant he had a shot. His cock ached at the thought of having more from Kisumi. A date. Even a one night stand. Every step he took was one closer to him. Driven on by the soft whimpers below him, he kept swallowing until Kisumi arched off the table, toes pointed, cum gushing into Sousuke's mouth in rich, heady streams thick enough to choke on. The taste was strong, as if it'd been fermenting in his nuts for a while, so Sousuke made sure to work up the shaft, squeezing out the last few globules of spunk to relieve him of his burden. He licked his chops, soaking in the flavour. Bitter like a pill, but it was the kind of medicine he needed in his life.

He dragged Kisumi's boneless body back into his lap to kiss him senseless, price be damned.

Once he caught his breath, Kisumi slapped him on the chest and huffed, "I'm supposed to be the one servicing you, you big pervert!"

"You didn't seem to mind." He shifted, trying to keep his erection from scraping against Kisumi's pants. He was still sensitive, fresh off his previous orgasm.

Kisumi looked at the reawakened beast in quiet awe. "Did blowing me turn you on that much?"

"I'm a giver, what can I say."

Kisumi spat into his palm and wrapped his hand around his cock. Unlike his own bear paws, it was soft and manicured and most definitely did not feel like he was sandpapering his dick off despite the poor lube.

"I thought twofers weren't allowed."

"Shut up and cum for me," Kisumi muttered, closing the gap between their mouths.

And because he was a good, law-abiding gentleman, he obeyed.

—

"Miss me?"

"Like I'd miss a tumor."

"That means a lot coming from you."

For once, he'd managed to catch Nanase outside the bar. From the looks of it, he'd been sketching caricatures of people as they passed. Homework, he reckoned, since the one time he'd stolen a peek at his sketchbook, he'd only seen sealife and water dynamics. They were good sketches, the kind you'd see in a natural encyclopedia, though Nanase'd gotten pissed when he told him that. He chalked it up to artistic ego.

He was about to ask if his suspicion was correct when his stomach gurgled. Breakfast was the last thing he'd eaten, a simple bowl of egg and rice, and hunger had been grating at him for a few hours now, but he'd kept on ignoring it even as nausea and pain broiled in his belly. Nanase stared at his stomach as though an alien lifeform had spontaneously burst out of it. Before he could make an excuse, it gurgled again.

"We're going to MOS Burger."

All he had on him was enough for a beer and the train home. That wasn't going to cover anything substantial enough to satisfy him. Besides, beer was filling. "I don't... It'd be easier to stay here, wouldn't it?"

Nanase was already halfway down the block. "I'm buying. Let's go."

They ate, Nanase a fish burger and salad, and him a pork cutlet burger with fries and onion rings that tasted like four star cuisine. Once he neared the end of his tray, Nanase ordered a second serving and commanded him to eat it as if he was some stray dog that hadn't had a meal in weeks. He feigned modesty, but devoured it anyway. Free was free, damaged pride or not. Besides, he could return the favour once he had more spending money. Nanase dragged him to 7-Eleven afterwards to pick up a pack of beers and the biggest bag of prawn crackers they had in stock, seeming intent on stuffing him to bursting. That was one of the things he liked about the guy. Underneath the sullen snark and crumpled jacket collars, he cared, in his own weird-ass way and tonight he was doing him a bigger favour than he realized. The less he spent on eating out, the more time he could spend with Kisumi.

"Do I finally get to see where the honourable Nanase lives?"

"We're going to the park," he replied, as if that was the obvious conclusion.

"Isn't it closed at night? What if the police decide they wanna kick up a fuss?"

"We'll run away."

"You live dangerously. I like it."

They set up shop in the heart of Shinjuku Gyoen on a patch of grass that looked nicer than it felt and got three beers deep before either of them remembered their mouths were good for something other than drinking.

"Is it okay for you to be staying out this late? You don't have work to worry about? School?"

"It's fine. School's not a big deal and I work at night."

Sousuke stared up at the sky, watching helicopter comets pass. "Huh. I just realized I don't know anything about you. Outside of you doing art, I mean."

"I'm not very interesting."

"You got a family? Pets? A boyfriend?"

"Parents down south, none, and if I had a boyfriend, I'd be drinking with him, not you."

Sousuke slouched into Nanase's lap, playfully batting his jaw, enjoying that _are you really this drunk already_ look. He wasn't, but a little fun never killed anyone. "Aw, c'mon. Not enough room in your heart for two?"

"No."

"But I love you." He watched Nanase's ears go dark red as he turned away. "That's what it takes to get you? Really? That's adorable."

"Shut up," Nanase grumbled into the rim of his can. "That's not something you say to someone out of the blue."

"Love you," Sousuke repeated with a massive, shit-eating grin.

Nanase tossed him into the grass facefirst and stormed off in the direction of the road to flag down a cab. He had one foot in the car when he patted his pockets, checking for something. His shoulders sagged as he turned a terse 180 and trudged back to Sousuke to begin searching the grass.

"...I dropped my wallet."

Sousuke found it nestled beneath the 7-Eleven bag and held it out, snatching it away as Nanase reached for it. As he played keepaway, he spotted a fat stripe of bills wedged in the leather. "Jesus, you're loaded. Are you trying to get yourself robbed?"

"The amount of cash I carry is none of your business." Nanase lunged for the wallet again, missed.

"Finder's fee." Sousuke pulled out a ¥5000 bill with a phone number and a message written on the back. _Call me when you're not at work for once! ♥—Gou._ He kissed the bill and slid it down the front of Nanase's jeans, then lobbed the wallet at him. "Just fuckin with you. I've taken enough of your money tonight."

Unamused, Nanase thumbed through his cash to return the bill to its rightful place and slipped his wallet back into his pocket.

"It seems like I'm relying on you a lot lately. So... thanks." Sousuke gave him a faint smile and gestured towards the road. "Well, go on. Wouldn't want to miss your cab, would you?"

Nanase sat beside him and cracked a fresh beer.

—

His flat was as empty as ever when he came home. He tossed his keys on the rack and kicked off his shoes, mumbling a soft "I'm home" out of childhood habit.

Work had been a drag. The kid hadn't come in today because he had to prepare for some big exam and there'd been no major mishaps to liven things up. His evening forecast was as bland as his morning. Nothing good on TV, nothing to read he hadn't already read a dozen times, and an internet full of garbage. He could take the train to Nicho to see if Nanase was at the bar, but he was tight enough on money that it was a risk he'd rather not take and wasn't in the mood to spit idle chitchat at the regulars he was less familiar with anyway.

As he waited for his leftovers to reheat, he glanced at the small pile of Polaroids of him and Kisumi on the kitchen table. Pictures weren't allowed to be taken in the café unless it was done by staff, ¥300 a pop. He'd thought it a fair price. Each of them had the date marked at the bottom and Kisumi's flamboyant signature. He wondered what Kisumi was doing right about now. Probably servicing men that weren't him. Sucking their cocks. Smiling at them. His guts twisted. He liked to imagine that Kisumi kept his smiles on reserve. The other guys got the fake shit, he got the real deal. But he couldn't say for sure and the lack of certainty preyed at the back of his mind.

For all he'd learned about Kisumi, there was still plenty he didn't know.

He knew that he had a younger brother, that he got into uni on a basketball scholarship but was doing a proper study program rather than the easy bullshit athletes usually pursued—botany, specializing in plant morphology, he'd said, as if that meant anything to Sousuke—his favourite colours and musicians and his dreams for the future, but had no idea if there was a warm body waiting for him when he came crawling back to his flat at two in the morning.

He needed a hobby. Or more friends. Anything to keep his mind occupied. Friends would be cheaper and easier than picking up Gunpla or knitting. Gay, straight, didn't matter. Probably straight, since gays his age were mostly interested in banging in back alleys and public toilets, no muss, no fuss. If you had the look, you could get the dick, but good luck getting anything more. Nanase was an exception, though he seemed bizarrely sexless overall. Never mentioned old flames or one and done conquests. At first he figured it was out of politeness, but now he found himself wondering. He would call him to find out, if only he had his number. He'd never thought to ask for it.

Maybe that was why he hadn't kept in touch with anyone from high school. They had shared their last embraces at graduation, promised that no matter how far afield they went that they would drop a line once in a while, and then, nothing.

The microwave dinged, but his appetite was gone.

Taken by an inexplicable heaviness, he laid on the floor and watched the walls fade from hazy orange gold to deep blue as the day surrendered to the night.

Someday, when he said "I'm home", there'd be someone to answer.

—

Six weeks he refrained from visiting Kisumi and it had been a crawling torture the whole way. Nothing to carry him through the week but the promise of drinks with Nanase on Thursdays, which came with no guarantee of a blowie and a hundred percent chance of getting a pencil in the eye if he suggested such a thing. The break was sorely needed for his bank account to heal after a glorious month of Sweet Coffee chipping away at it, so he buckled down and endured the best he could.

He'd hit up a couple old cruising spots to try to destress, but it wasn't enough. Banging strangers was a gamble in both the quality, consciousness, and basic functionality of the men in question. None of them came close to Kisumi's proficiency no matter how sober and after the last guy he'd brought home puked on his dick, he gave up. With that outlet gone, shoddy as it was, he embraced a period of desperate productivity.

Paperwork he'd spent the past two years telling himself he'd sort 'eventually' got sorted. Every inch of his flat was so clean that it qualified as a sterile zone. He went to the library and read until he thought his eyes would fall out and harassed Nanase into teaching him new recipes since he'd found out that he liked cooking. Movie marathons, jogs around town, trips to the gym. They were good distractions, but no matter what he did, it always had to come to an end and thoughts of Kisumi crept back in.

More than the sex, he longed to hear him ramble about flowering shrubs and feel the weight of his hand on his arm, the warmth that radiated from him when he leaned close. On his roams about town, he saw couples, friends, families together who took that kind of closeness for granted. It was hard not to resent them.

Once his bank account got back to a satisfactory number, he went straight to the café and ordered a Deluxe Cream Coffee. When Kisumi appeared from his behind the partition and said, "Welcome back!" he wanted to sweep him into his arms and never let him go like he was the star of some idiotic romance flick.

And when they reached their room at the love hotel, he did just that.

"My big mountainman." Kisumi let out a contented sigh as he rubbed Sousuke's back. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course."

"Good, cause I missed you like crazy. I was starting to think you'd died."

"Had some stuff I needed to take care of. Sorry for making you worry."

"You're here now and that's what matters." Kisumi weaseled out of Sousuke's grasp and thwapped him with the clipboard he'd brought along. "But before we can celebrate, we've got paperwork! And before you ask, yes, you have to."

"Why's it so long?"

"So I can make sure you get exactly what you want. Now scoot, it's not going to fill itself out." Kisumi shoved him towards the bathroom. "Ask me if you're not sure about something on it."

The questionnaire was two pages long, detailing everything he could get out of the experience. Two orgasms were guaranteed, conversation was optional, and there was an unsettling amount of customization for the acts performed, controlling everything from how much he wanted to be kissed, how much his balls should be licked, where he wanted to cum and what he wanted Kisumi to do with it once he had, if he wanted to be verbally abused and spat on, to his choice of positions—six for getting rimmed in alone with five styles of tongue action (hosts would do all five but accommodate for specific preferences) with an option of hearing a thorough description of how his anus tasted—and the cherry on top of deciding if he wanted Kisumi to wear a special costume while they fucked.

He ticked his answers dutifully, struck by the uncanny resemblance to filling out an exam. How was anyone supposed to remember all this? Did they have to count how many times they kissed? Time how long they'd spent in one position? What if he marked something that he wanted to do but Kisumi hated it? He went back and reread his answers, sweating as he erased and reticked boxes. No pervert chairs. No rimming. No weird shit.

In his quest to banish the undesirables, he began to realize he didn't even know what some of acts listed were. "Uh... There's a thing that says magnifying glass. It doesn't have a description."

"You take a magnifying glass and use it to examine my junk. Or my butthole. Really anything you want an extreme close up of. Why, you interested?"

"No thanks," he said, too quick for his own good. Kisumi laughed softly through the door and he felt like an awkward virgin again. "What about these costumes?"

"All the usual staples. Schoolgirl, maid, nurse, flight attendant, office lady, some anime characters... There's not too many male oriented costumes, but I can get the pamphlet for you. I didn't think you'd be into cosplay."

"I'm not. I was just curious."

"Curiosity is good."

After a great deal of fussing and fretting, he reached the final question:

_After the second round, what would you like to do?_

_A) Cuddle and conversation_

_B) Lick anus until time is up_

_C)(Third Round) Handjob and anal licking until time is up_

Embarrassed, he circled A. Not for the cuddling, but for the chance to talk to him at length. No matter how much they talked, he was always left wanting more. He opened the door a crack and passed the clipboard through. Kisumi pried it wider, darting in to steal a kiss.

"I won't charge you for that one." He winked and shut the door to read over the form. A few nervewracking minutes passed before he called, "Ready when you are."

Nothing to be stressed about. It was sex, he had done this plenty of times before. Still, his thoughts didn't keep his stomach from twinging as he stepped into the bedroom.

"Shall we start with the usual?"

"I didn't come here for the usual." He had to force the words out and he wished he'd gotten a drink or two in him beforehand.

"You sure?" Kisumi cocked his head, playing with the hem of his shirt. "You were pretty tame on the form. You don't even want me to undress you."

"It's not that I didn't want to do some of that stuff, it's that I didn't want to make you do something you didn't like."

Taken aback, Kisumi fumbled for a coherent thought, settling on, "This is supposed to be about what you want. My preferences don't matter."

"They matter to me."

His features softened into an expression that Sousuke wanted to wake up to every morning. "Man, if all my customers were as sweet as you, I'd never quit. Anything you're down for, I'm down for."

"Then undress me."

Kisumi worked Sousuke's shirt open, looking every bit the kid in the candy store, eyes glowing brighter with every button he popped. There was a tanline where his workshirts met, his bronzed arms and neck giving way to a paler torso despite attempts to remedy it with nude naps on the balcony, but though his tan was imperfect, his physique couldn't be denied. Sharp cut obliques, wings to rival an F-35, pecs you could balance a level on... Everywhere you looked there was a new muscle to ogle. He shrugged his shirt off and brought his arms up, displaying baseball biceps, horseshoe triceps and clean-shaven armpits, then dragged his powerful hand down the hard ridges of his abs. Hauling lumber and bags of concrete was top notch work on its own and his gym membership only solidified the results.

Awestruck silence, then, "If you smothered me with your pecs, I would die happy."

Proud that his hard work had paid off, Sousuke flexed to show them in their full beefy glory, bouncing them for good measure.

Kisumi stared at his chest as if entranced, then reached out and poked his nipples. "Beep."

"Really?"

"They're cute! You'd do the same!"

Sousuke stripped away Kisumi's shirt, ducking to meet his pink nipples. He pressed his mouth against the flat rings, bringing them erect with long sucks and nibbles. He leaned back and looked upon his work with pride. Kisumi was right, nipples _were_ cute, and before he realized what he was doing, he was prodding them with his thumbs.

"I told you. They're irresistible." Kisumi laughed as he unzipped Sousuke's jeans.

Sousuke slipped Kisumi's slacks down to reveal a pair of purple briefs and better yet, his legs. He had never seen them before, didn't know they were this toned, that his ass was this perky and tight. He slid his hands down the back of the briefs, and squeezed the thick, meaty globes. Touching them was a revelation in the flesh and he was moved deeply, specifically in the penile region, overjoyed to realize there was more than he could fit in his hands. He simply couldn't hold this much ass—it was glorious. Unable to resist the butt's siren call, he tore a hand free and brought it colliding into the supple meat.

Kisumi yelped, staggering into his chest. "You brute!"

"Sorry."

"I didn't say I didn't like it." His fingers coiled around Sousuke's nape. "Brutes can be sexy too. Now do you want to strip the rest of me or shall I?"

"Keep them on for now."

As Kisumi removed Sousuke's trunks, he kissed down his chest, traversing his abs to reach his pubic mound and down the length of his soft shaft to his thigh, worshipping the sculpted body. He dragged his tongue from the root of his cock up to his belly button, setting Sousuke alight with his adoring gaze. It took every fibre of restraint in Sousuke's body to not fuck his face until he couldn't breathe, though his cock twitched at the visual, giving Kisumi's chin a lovetap. Forcing himself to cool down, he stepped away and seated himself on the foot of the bed, painfully aware of how hard and heavy he was hanging. They'd barely started and he was dripping already. He had saved himself up for a fortnight, spending an hour or so every night bringing himself to the edge and backing off, then working back up and repeating until he couldn't stand it and killed the mood with a sock full of ice. It'd been an exercise in patience and the thresholds of his sanity, keeping him keyed up to the point that the feel of walking around in his favourite underwear got him boned and dripping, but he intended to give Kisumi the fuck of a lifetime and having a strong load was crucial. Kisumi got more than his fair share of limpdicks with weak cumshots and he deserved better. Deserved a man who could fuck him the way he needed to be fucked, fill him with spunk the way a slut craved. He pawed at his nuts, certain that the load swelling them out could impregnate half the continent. Face, mouth, ass, more than enough to go around. The bead of pre rolled thicker in anticipation, slicking up his pisshole so it could really fly when the moment came.

Control was key, he reminded himself as Kisumi prowled towards him. Losing it before he was ready meant wasting all his prep. But Kisumi made it damned hard with the way he moved, sinuous and smooth across the floor. Kisumi slithered up between his thighs and took his cock in hand, giving it a firm stroke.

"Not yet." Sousuke ran his hand through Kisumi's hair to ground himself. There was nothing more in the world that he would like than to bust a nut all over that pretty face, but he needed to hold out a little longer. He wasn't some fuckin two pump chump and besides, he was curious. Kisumi said he was game for anything. He wanted to see how true that was. "I want a good look at your mouth."

"Oh? Did you finally realize it's my best feature?"

"I knew that from the minute I saw you, but it's always full of dick for some reason."

Kisumi grinned, his hard white teeth a gateway to a realm of wonder. Sousuke slid his finger along the wall of his mouth, stretching his cheek to the limit to expose pink, spit-slick gums that would make dentists cry in delight. He traced over them, follow the curve of every tooth, wondering how much he must spend on keeping his mouth in such ace condition.

"It ticklesh."

"Say ahh."

Tongue protruded as far as it would reach, Kisumi showed off the depths of his cavernous throat, filled with quivering threads of saliva that glistened in the light when he swallowed, his uvula a tantalizing gem dangling just within his reach. Sousuke's finger danced along the ridges of his molars to the sharp point of his canines, provoking Kisumi to nip him with a growl. Cheeky bastard. Sousuke squeezed his jaw until he opened back up, filling the air between them with the fading scent of mouthwash. He swirled his tongue through the crevices of his own mouth to gather the spit hidden within and bowed over Kisumi, letting a long strand of drool sluice into his awaiting gullet. Kisumi hummed with pleasure and opened wider, begging for more. Sousuke gathered another wad and spat hard, hitting his front teeth dead on. A thick, wet tongue flickered over the spot, making sure to get every drop, unintentionally giving Sousuke his new target. It looked good enough to eat, so he bit it, tasting mint and a hint of liquor. Satisfied, he inserted his fingers and began pulling and kneading it. It was smooth and slippery, squishing wetly between his fingers as he stroked the countless tastebuds spanning its width.

"Ahn! Ah!" Kisumi whimpered as Sousuke tilted his head up for better access.

With his path unobstructed, Sousuke slid four fingers into the pit of Kisumi's throat, stroking his esophagus. To his delight, Kisumi's gag reflex accepted him without faltering. Benefits of being a professional dicksucker, he guessed. His foot brushed against something warm and soft and looked down to realize he'd bumped into Kisumi's groin. He wedged his foot under it, wiggling back until his toes met the cleft of his ass. Kisumi rocked his hips into him, rubbing his erect cock against his ankle to alleviate his frustrations and it was then that Sousuke realized that Kisumi needed this as much as he did. He leisurely stretched his leg out and watched Kisumi rise with it, clinging to his thigh as if he was terrified he'd disappear if he let go. The desperation was adorable in a weird way. Gratifying. Sousuke flicked his finger, striking his uvula over and over, wrenching gag after gag out of Kisumi, but Kisumi kept on fucking his leg like a sex-crazed animal, smearing the pre oozing out of his slit everywhere. His grunts grew higher, faster, body wracked with shudders as Sousuke watched his impending orgasm welling up in him. He let up for a second, then slammed the full force of his hand into Kisumi's uvula. Recoiling with a guttural retch, Kisumi came, soaking his briefs with jizz as he spasmed, choked. His eyelids fluttered, revealing only white as his trembling slowed, then ceased.

They'd veered far off script and couldn't care less.

Sousuke withdrew his hand and Kisumi fell back on his knees, coughing up a storm.

"You alright? I don't—Should we stop?"

Kisumi caught his breath, cleared his throat a few times before saying in a hoarse voice, "More than alright. Can't say I've ever done that before. Much as I wouldn't mind you continuing to surprise me, it's time for me to take care of you."

He crawled forward, eyes set on his prize. Sousuke cupped his hands around Kisumi's head, staying his advance.

"Are you gonna make me beg for it, jerk?"

"Maybe," Sousuke said, unable to resist smirking. He wagged his cock over Kisumi's nose, enticing him with its scent. No washcloth this time, just raw dick funk. Kisumi huffed deep, getting high on cockstink as driplets of precum rolled off the end of the cock and pattered onto his upper lip.

"I need you," Kisumi pleaded, his eyes growing wider, more frenzied with each whiff. "I need your big dick inside me. I've been waiting so long."

"Yeah?" The words were a hit of cocaine to his ego and he wanted more.

"Mmhm." Kisumi pushed, missing his target by milimetres. "On my days off, I'd ride my favourite toy and pretend it was you. I'd do it real rough, cause that's how you seem like you'd fuck. You'd put your big, strong hands on my waist and fuck me so hard I'd feel it for the rest of the month. You'd make sure everyone knew I was yours."

Sousuke let his cock dangle lower so Kisumi could lick it while he plead his case.

"You'd never have to jerk off again. I'd take care of you whenever you wanted it."

"Anywhere, anytime?"

"Call me to work and I'll blow you in front of your entire crew."

He liked the sound of that. Liked it a whole hell of a lot. "Show me how."

Sousuke let him go and Kisumi pounced on his cock with vengeful fervor. He rejoiced at the thought of his coworkers' stunned faces. What a way to come out that'd be! They couldn't even be mad because he had something so good that even the straightest SOB wouldn't begrudge him it. Those fucks _wished_ they had wives this eager. Shit, he bet they'd think it might not be bad to give gay a try if it meant getting service this mindblowing. He yanked his cock out and knotted his hands in Kisumi's hair and for once, he wished he was fucking a guy with long hair. Made it easier to grab. He shoved hard, battering the back of his wrecked throat, fixed the angle, slid in real nice and easy. No time for soft play, he needed to cum.

Pistoning with the ferocity of a machine, he smashed his pelvis into Kisumi's face, revelling in the mess he was making of him. Kisumi gasped through his nose, spittle frothing around the cock. He didn't suck, just took it, urging him on with garbled noises. Sousuke felt the tension building in his glutes, cock veins bulging against Kisumi's hot tongue. He pulled back, resting his cockhead square behind those perfect teeth, and blew his load. It came in a long, near continuous stream as if he was pissing cum, each pulse arcing against the roof of his mouth. Once he was spent, his cock fell away from Kisumi's flushed lips and Kisumi opened wide, showing the sloppy mess he'd made of it, drooling spit and spunk down his chin before coiling his tongue back and swallowing.

Sousuke stretched, rolling a loud crack out of his neck. "You sure know how to wear a guy out."

Rising from his rug burned knees, Kisumi flicked Sousuke's limp dick. "Don't tell me you're tired already."

Sousuke seized him by the waist and hoisted him into the air, muscles bulging in great, thick bunches as Kisumi squealed with delight. He'd show him how 'tired' he was. He slammed him onto the bed and flipped him over, stroking the cleft hidden beneath the field of lavender. Kisumi arched catlike into his touch, presenting himself for the taking. Sousuke grabbed a fistful of briefs and with a sharp jerk, tore the whole ass-end out. It hung in a tattered flap, exposing Kisumi's puckered fuckhole and shaved scrotum. Thrilling at the sight of the flawless canvas, Sousuke's hand rushed down and made his skin sing. Each slap was a triumph, shooting a spark up his arm as he watched the impact ripple through the soft flesh, skin flashing red in the shape of his palm as Kisumi shrank from the pain, then held himself out for more.

Cock-hungry beast he was, Kisumi was fast crying out to be fucked. When he looked over to see Sousuke's cock hanging flaccid, he acted as if it was an insult to him, his mother, and everything he held dear.

"Get it up already!" he snapped, more amused than annoyed. "Gosh, do I have to do _everything_ for you?"

"Didn't think you'd be this fussy," Sousuke grunted as he jerked himself, trying to channel the boner-popping prowess of his fourteen year old self. It hurt, by God it hurt, but he would work through the pain.

"You never make a gentleman wait, especially when he needs a dicking." Rolling onto his back, he beckoned to Sousuke. "Sit on my face. You take care of the prep work and I'll get you in fighting shape."

Kisumi tossed him a bottle of warming lubricant and to show his appreciation, Sousuke dropped his muscular ass onto his face. The tongue came hesitant at first, licking over the tight ring to get it moist enough to try more, then began sampling the flexibility of the tight ring. A faint burn built where it probed him, deepening as more of Kisumi's tongue pried inside his unsullied shitter. He rocked his hips from side to side, clenching and relaxing his glutes as he lubed up his hand, trying to adjust to the wetness splitting him open. Kisumi spread his asscheeks apart and pulled Sousuke down until his lips were flush with his asshole, sucking and kissing the rim as his tongue scooped as far as it could reach. Having a guy make out with his asshole ranked high on the list of things Sousuke wasn't 'into' next to pissplay and Daddy fetishism, but as with everything else involving Kisumi, he ended up enjoying himself more than he thought he would. The smooth hand working on his cock certainly didn't hurt.

Just as he was getting comfy with the oral tribute, Kisumi shoved him up with a strength neither of them knew he had. "As much as I'd love to have 'murdered by ass' in my obituary, you gotta leave me a little breathing room."

"Does your tongue ever get tired?"

Kisumi paused long enough to say, "Nope. It's the strongest muscle I've got," and speared him deep.

Sousuke crammed two fingers inside him. They moved smoothly enough for him to try stepping it up immediately. Three? Still easy going, confirming he wasn't bullshitting about his recreational assplay. He wasn't loose in the way gutter sluts with gaping, prolapsed anuses were—that encounter haunted his dreams to this day—but he played with himself enough to not need much work put in. Four? Four seemed to be his limit, clamping tight around his blunt fingers. Kisumi jolted, moaning into Sousuke's asshole as he was opened up, sending vibrations down the length of his taint. Heat rushed into his dick as he hardened up, matching the rhythm of his fingers to Kisumi's tongue, sneaking in grace strokes on the clothed cock with the hand not currently three knuckles deep in the hole. Throaty whimpers rose to meet his ears as Kisumi's dick pushed out the tattered underwear, exposing its full glory. It was a healthy reddish-pink and had a club head that glistened with cold cum. Sousuke bent down and sucked the knob, cleaning up the remnants of spunk until Kisumi commanded him to stop.

"I don't want to cum until you're inside me. And you," Kisumi punctuated himself with a slap to Sousuke's ass. "are making that very hard. If you're good and finish prepping soon, maybe I'll let you have a few extra minutes off the clock."

Feeling mischievous, Sousuke withdrew his hand and put the nozzle of the lube bottle to Kisumi's fuckhole and gave it a good squeeze, flooding him. Should be more than enough to satisfy their needs.

"I'm gonna make you pay for a replacement if you don't cut it out." Kisumi went to say something else and in that exact moment, the heat kicked in. "Okaythat'senoughprep!"

"But am I hard enough for you yet?" He grinned, flexing his cock.

"Yes, yes, dick, now! Move it!"

Hands and knees again, Kisumi spread his cheeks wide, trying to entice him with his juicy ass. Lube dripped from his shitter to his testicles in a steady stream and Sousuke almost felt bad he'd used so much. Almost. He kissed his sack, his inner thighs, down the full length of his legs until Kisumi was begging for his cock. He bagged himself and lined up with the hole, his cock pulsing in time with his heart as he ran a hand along the spiderwebbed veins on the underside. He pressed the tip in, fighting his urge to jackhammer him insideout and watched his thick, toned ass swallowing him up inch by inch. You only had one first time with a certain guy and he wanted to savour it. He was gonna do this nice and slow and romantic—

And then Kisumi threw his ass back, impaling himself with an obscene giggle. "If you're not going to fuck me, then I will."

Well then. No more Mr Nice Guy.

Sousuke snapped forward, burying himself in Kisumi with a _squelch._

This wasn't a one size fits all asshole. Kisumi was made for him, tailored to his cock's exacting tastes. Depth? He bottomed out with just the right amount of resistance. When he wanted more pressure, there it was. Even the texture was magical in its own right, ridges to welcome his cock home, pull him deeper into their embrace. He couldn't begin to imagine how it must feel raw and if he could marry an asshole, it'd be this one.

His pace was punishing, brutal and he squeezed the crest of Kisumi's pelvis hard enough to bruise, relishing the feeling of the succulent ass bouncing with each thrust.

"Gimmie more, _more!"_ Kisumi gasped over the slap of their sweat-slicked flesh, head hung low. "Fuck me like a dog!"

Happy to oblige, Sousuke pounded into him, grinding against him to make him squirm as he swirled his cock deep in him, reaching towards his ribcage in hopes of fucking his heart into submission. One powerful thrust knocked Kisumi's hands out from beneath him and he dropped facefirst into the sheets, sliding further out with each slam of Sousuke's hips. He tried to get back into position, only to be fucked flat again. Sousuke grabbed him by the back of his neck and picked him up for a few savage thrusts, spunk sloshing in his heavy bull nuts as they smacked against Kisumi's ass, each stab of his cock tattooing his mark inside him. Whimpering, Kisumi reached back, grasping the bulging muscles of Sousuke's arm to try to hold himself in place, but Sousuke could only hold him up for so long. He wrenched Kisumi's hands off his biceps and pinned him to the bed, sinking his teeth into his shoulder, making damn sure to leave marks in his wake. When he signed off with his seed, all those other guys would understand. This was his territory. Intruders weren't welcome.

"Yessss yesssss..." Kisumi slurred, mouth melting into honey. "You fuck me so gooood..."

Between Kisumi's fat ass trying to milk him for everything he was worth and his vigorous encouragement, Sousuke's nuts ached with the need to unload. He was ready to give him a real condom-buster. His cockeye flared, prepping for the oncoming flood.

Kisumi lay twisted and broken beneath him, shamelessly begging for more, always more, to never stop, his garbled cries increasingly incoherent as he gasped and choked on his spit, culminating in a low, sobbing moan as he came, writhing in the sheets, spraying jet after jet of thick, syrupy cum against his stomach. His fuckhole contracted around Sousuke, sucking him deeper and it felt so fucking good, so _tight_ , strangling his cock so hard he couldn't breathe and there was one sweet **_clench_** as Kisumi shivered out the last of his orgasm that drove him over the edge

Two weeks' worth of hot, creamy spunk rushed out of him in great spurts, pisshole gaping wide enough that he could feel it. Sousuke paused, dying a little, shaking atop him as each pulse of his cock filled him up more, groaning breathlessly as Kisumi took everything he had. His seed. His love. Every little bit of his soul. He felt his cum splashing back on his cockhead and wished he was painting his insides for real so he could be his always.

He crashed down from his high to the uncomfortable reality of Kisumi crying into the pillow.

"Did I hurt you? Shit, I'm so, so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Where do you get off on being that good at fucking?" Kisumi swatted him, sniffling. "I'm not gonna be able to have normal sex anymore."

"I'm... sorry?"

"You better be. Now gimmie cuddles."

To be honest, Sousuke wanted nothing more than to sleep. "I'm alright."

"You said you wanted them, so you're getting them." He shoved Sousuke flat and wedged himself into the crook of his arm. "Take that! You'll never escape. Never ever ever."

"If you say so," he said, surrendering to his fate. "It was okay?"

"Why are you worried? It was intense, not bad. I like intense." Kisumi rose long enough to roll off the condom and slurp out its contents. He knotted it into a ball and scored a three-pointer in the wastebin before falling back into Sousuke's arms with a purr. "I know I'm great. Hold your applause."

"Great's not the word I'd use to describe you."

"And what would you use?"

"Amazing. Incredible. Sexy. Smart. Take your pick."

"You're the incredible one." Kisumi peppered him with kisses, the stench of cum thick on his breath. "I should be paying you."

"Being with you is payment enough." He was too tired to be disgusted by his sappiness, eyes sinking shut as he melted into the bed.

"Hey, no falling asleep," Kisumi scolded him, slapping his chest.

"Not sleeping, just... basking in the glow."

He cracked one eye open to watch Kisumi hanging over him, enshrouded in a fluorescent halo, curls sticking to his neck with sweat.

He'd never seen a more beautiful man in his life.

"Wanna do this again?"

"Definitely."

—

"Is that all you're having?"

Sousuke traced the rim of his empty glass, wondering how long it would take the rest of his ice to melt so he could have at least another taste of liquor before he moseyed back to his flat. "Money's kinda tight at the moment."

"Give him another and put it on my bill."

"Have I ever told you that you're the best? Cause you're the fuckin best. I could kiss you." Sousuke dropped the ribbon of lemon zest he was sucking on and pulled Nanse in by his lapel, lips pursed.

Up came the sketchbook, catching him in the jaw and slapping down on his mouth. "I changed my mind, make his a shot of bleach."

The Horse's Neck slid across the bar unsullied and it was as he took his first sip that Nanase followed up with:

"I went and saw your prostitute. The coffee was good."

Sousuke choked, spraying precious booze onto the bar in a spattering mist. "What? Why?"

Nanase shrugged, training his eyes on the fishtank.

"That's not an answer."

"Wanted to see what the hype was about."

"How'd you find out where he works?"

"I see his business card every time you open your wallet. I tried the seventy minute course."

"You've sure got a lot of spending money for someone who's supposedly a starving artist." Nanase refused to rise to the bait, weak as it was. "So do I have your blessings now or what?"

"He's good. I can see why you like him."

"I'm in deep for him. Haven't felt this way about someone since high school. I'm gonna ask him out next payday. I think he'll say yes, cause I get this vibe from him that even though I'm paying to see him, he's into me the way I'm into him. God, it's gonna be so great." Glowing with the verve of a schoolgirl in springtime, he propped his head up on his fist and sighed. His joy was shortlived, since he caught Nanase eyeballing him with resigned disdain. "What's that look for? It worked for Richard Gere."

"Life's not a movie."

"Well, they have to base them off something. I know I'm not rich, but I want to give him a decent life so he doesn't have to keep doing this. I was thinking about seeing what it'd take for me to move into being a foreman. Back in school they told me I was good at managing groups and shit, so I think I could do it."

"Stop deluding yourself."

"Excuse me?" He recoiled as if shot.

"He doesn't need to be rescued and he doesn't want anything from you but your money."

"You said you liked him!"

"He's nice and good at his job. But he doesn't love you."

"Even if you think that, why do you have to tell me? What's the point, other than trying to make me feel like shit? Why can't you just pretend to be happy for me like a normal human being?"

"Because every time I don't say something, you go and throw another five, ten thousand away on him. You could buy a couple drinks for a stranger and get the same result."

"Maybe you don't give a shit and you're happy to fuck around when it suits you, but I'm not you. I'm tired of fucking around. I want someone who's serious. I think he's that guy." Incensed by Nanase's placid stare, he barrelled on, "He said I was special."

"You're special alright. As special as every other customer he has."

"You don't know a goddamned thing about him."

"No, but I know how these people work. The relationship ends once the money's gone and then they move on to the next guy with a heavy wallet."

Sousuke slammed his hand on the bar and leapt out of his seat, towering over Nanase. "What's your problem? Some asshole callboy broke your heart, so now all of em are the devil incarnate? If that's the case, then that's fuckin pathetic. You can't handle the thought of that kind of guy wanting a real connection, so you're taking it out on me."

Nanase gathered his art supplies and slid off the stool. "You know what we call guys like you? Whales. You're a big, stupid whale who's too cunt-struck to realize he's being eaten."

"Listen here, Nanase—"

"My name is Haru, by the way."

"Fuck you, Haru."

"Good night, Sousuke."

Away he went, trailed by the scent of vodka, out of the door and out of Sousuke's life. Good riddance. He didn't need a so-called friend who refused to support the small happinesses he managed to claw from the concrete.

He couldn't wait for his next paycheck to come in.

Then they'd see who the dumbass was.

—

When payday came, he took the most thorough shower of his life. No inch left unscrubbed. He styled himself in a way he never had before, nails clipped, eyebrows preened, hair fussed with far too long. Teeth brushed, washed—he even remembered to floss. He wore the cologne his ma had given him for his twentieth birthday, an ironed shirt and slacks, good shoes and a watch he'd bought and left to rot on his nightstand when it became apparent that it wouldn't survive the worksite.

Kisumi deserved perfection and he wanted to be the one giving it to him.

He took a taxi to avoid getting his clothes rumpled and took the stairs slow, even knowing that he was late already. He paused on the landing before the sixth floor. Halt his fluttering innards, calm the thunder of his heart, shave the excess fat from his tongue. He was a grown ass man. Kisumi liked him. All he had to do was ask.

"Oh my god, you look great!" Kisumi gushed on sight, embracing him. "You _smell_ great. New cologne?"

"Yeah. Sorry I'm late."

"If you being a little late means that I get to see you all fancy, I don't mind. But still, I'm gonna have to punish you for making me worry. I was scared that you were gonna disappear again."

"I'm here to stay as long as you'll have me, so try not to punish me too hard." He let himself be dragged back into their room, found courage in the kiss. "Been thinking about you all week."

"Me too."

"Thinking about yourself? Mighty vain of you."

"You know what I meant, punk." Kisumi gave him a playful shove. "You want to settle in or get started right away?"

"I don't need any service today. I just wanted to see you."

"I'm touched but I'm gonna get in trouble if they think I'm slacking."

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about. When do you get off?"

"Usually a couple minutes after our sessions, in the bathroom. I make it most of the time. You know how many new pairs of underwear I've had to buy since you started visiting?" Kisumi tugged down his waistband to expose a pair of polkadot briefs. "Got these yesterday cause they reminded me of you. Serious answer, long after you should be in bed. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab a meal or some drinks." Panicking at the initial confusion clouding Kisumi's face, he hurried to add, "And if you're too tired tonight, I don't have work tomorrow, so we could go out and do something. I was looking into different botanical gardens and Jindai'll be open. I think you'd really like it."

"Oh, honey."

The dread lurking in the pit of his stomach warped into a black hole.

"I can't. It's against our work policies."

"I get that, but they don't have to know. It'll be our secret." He contorted his mouth into what he thought was a reassuring smile, reached for Kisumi's hand to staunch the bleed of his ego.

Kisumi pulled it into his lap. "They take rule breaking seriously around here and meeting clients outside of work is the biggest no-no of all. So I can't, not even for you."

"I thought..." This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "I thought we had something going on. You said I was special."

"You _are_ special to me. I did stuff for you I'd never do for any other client, including bending the rules. But you're still a client. And I like you a lot, but I don't want to quit. I've worked really hard to get myself established here and I don't want to give that up. I could go to another club, but my paygrade will be way lower because I'll have to rebuild my client base and I can't afford that right now. I need this job. So I'm sorry, but I can't return your feelings."

The world collapsed around him.

"You led me on." His voice echoed in his ears, scandalized.

"I," Kisumi started, sighed, rippled his fingers across the tables in contemplation. "The thing with this job is that I can't say I didn't mean to, at least in the beginning. That's part of what I do, I can't escape it. I mean, it's not like I spend my downtime plotting how make guys fall in love with me, but we have to keep clients wanting more while keeping a professional distance. That's hard sometimes, especially with you. I really do like you, I just can't give you what you want. You should find a guy who can."

He _lied_ to him. No matter how he dressed it up, a lie was a lie and he'd been doing it for months. And if he could lie about there being a chance for him, then was he really attracted to him or was that a lie too? He shoved the screen aside, stumbled into a stray chair as he headed for the door. He had to get out of here.

"Chigusa, I'll pay for his time."

Her expression remained trained at neutral, only the flicker in her eyes betraying her disappointment. It leered, mocked him for being a lovesick faggot who couldn't do something as simple as recognize professional kindness. "Should I book you a different host next time?"

Sousuke shouldered past her, not getting out fast enough to avoid hearing, "I don't think he's coming back."

He staggered down the stairs blindly, alternating fits of sprinting and kicking the walls. He was stupid. So goddamned stupid. He didn't have anyone left anymore. The relationship he'd built up in his mind was a sham and he drove away the one friend he did have for someone who wouldn't love him. What was he supposed to do now?

He didn't know, so he ran.

The first thing he saw after exiting the floating, debaucherous world of the highrise was Haru lounging on a 1999 Super Blackbird, watching traffic pass. He could tell it was him even with the full helmet. Probably come to rub it in his face. To laugh at him. He turned off in the opposite direction, head hung low, hands stuffed in his pockets so he didn't launch himself into the street to smash Haru's face into the pavement for being right when he didn't want him to be. For showing him to be the idiot he believed he wasn't. Haru could hook decent guys without trying while he was stuck pining after sluts it wasn't fair wasn't fair _wasn't fucking fair_

The street pitched and rolled under his feet as though the land had become sea and everything was too small, he was too small to bear such a monstrous rage, smothered in the crowd flocking around him, a tide pressing in from all sides until he couldn't breathe he was going to blow the fuck up on someone going to beat them until the hurt stopped. He rubbed his knuckles, knew that they'd be broken and bloody soon, best enjoy them while they lasted. He needed a target. An acceptable target. Someone from this onslaught of laughing faces suffocating him. He needed a target and he couldn't pick one because he was scared he might kill them for real. And it wouldn't be fair to do that to a stranger. They weren't the one who'd done this. Kisumi was. Why would Kisumi do this to him? Why would he lie to him for so long? It was his job, fucking bullshit! If it was just his job he wouldn't have been so happy to see him every time he came in. He wouldn't have kissed him like he meant it. He wouldn't have made him feel so wanted.

Kisumi needed to hurt the way he did.

He turned around and began shoving his way through the crowd with singleminded determination, ignoring the protests of callboys and johns alike. Kisumi was going to pay. He didn't care if he went to prison for the rest of his life, but on his immortal soul, Kisumi was going to pay. He was going to throw him through that fucking window and watch him break on the concrete, going to line him up on the curb and stomp his head in until his pretty lying mouth was pulp. The thought thrilled him, gave light to his heart. It was going to feel so good to stomp him, to listen to his perfect teeth cracking in the gutter— _Krrk!_ —and then the clatter of them bouncing away, away like little white beads.

He could pay the dental bill with all the money he'd taken from him.

Electricity hummed under his skin, spurring him on his mission. No time for second thoughts, he had to do it, had to so Kisumi could never con someone into giving so much of themself again.

The Blackbird's engine rumbled as it crept along the pavement. Even in the cacophony seething in his head, Sousuke knew he'd have to deal with Haru first. He scanned for a side alley that wasn't a dead end. No luck.

"Yamazaki."

Pedestrians were starting to stare.

"Sousuke."

"You were right. Is that what you wanted to hear?" he snarled past the glass prickling his throat, each word spat with the ferocity of a curse.

"No."

"Then what the fuck do you want? You gonna make fun of me? Join the party! The whole fuckin universe is making fun of me tonight!"

"Do you want a ride?" Haru stuck out a spare helmet. "Say yes. I had a hard time finding something that would fit your stupid head."

There it was, the terrible punchline to his shitty night.

Defanged, he laughed at first, bitter, then the tears came, staining the collar of his good shirt. He didn't wipe them away because it meant acknowledging that hateful weakness within him more than he already had. At least he was almost dignified about it. He didn't sob, wasn't the sobbing type, so he carried on in his quiet, ugly sadness as Haru waited. The conversation played over and over, deepening the ache in his chest. Kisumi didn't want him and there was nothing he could do about it. Kisumi didn't want him because he wanted a job more and he was breaking down in the middle of the fucking street like it even mattered. Because there would be other guys. He knew there would be.

But they probably wouldn't want him either.

"Why?" was all he could say, all he could think.

Haru dismounted and raised the helmet, getting the first inch or two over Sousuke's head. Sousuke placed his hands atop Haru's and pushed it down the rest of the way. For a few seconds they stood staring at each other, Sousuke shaking and Haru still as the noise of Ni-chome faded to a dull murmur. Haru leaned into his chest and patted him on the shoulder, then returned to his spot on the bike.

"Come on."

Sousuke scrubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes and sat behind Haru on the narrow slice of seat available, trying to recompose himself, waiting until he knew his voice wouldn't quaver. "Where we going?"

"No clue."

Sounded good to him.

Haru reached back to flick Sousuke's visor down, then set his own and slowly turned the bike into the correct lane of traffic. Beneath them the bike sat heavy, its balance precarious when they came to standstills, but the further out of the metro they got, the higher the speedometer climbed and the higher the speedometer climbed, the lighter the bike became.

When they hit 200, it vanished, as if by magic.

They flirted with the few cars and semis out, screaming at their heels before blowing past them into the horizon. Sousuke could scarcely breathe, ears aching at the roar of the engine, the wind ripping at his skin, adrenaline spiking through his blood. The streetlights blurred into parallel streaks of yellow in the sky and he had to resist the urge to sit up and spread his arms because fuck, if this wasn't flying he didn't know what was.

Instead, he tucked closer to Haru and held tight to his warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> TL;DR [Bros before hoes.](https://youtu.be/mdB3Oyd5HtU?t=45s)
> 
> Story:  
> Haru got interested in Sousuke because the first few times they met, Sousuke sat next to him but ignored him the entire night. He liked having someone who knew how to shut up and it usually saved him the hassle of turning down guys whenever he went into that bar, so he bought him a drink and the rest was history. They'd known each other for about a year and a half by the time the story starts.
> 
> Assorted minutiae: The cologne Sousuke used at the end was L'Eau par Kenzo Eau de Toilette Pour Homme. Many life choices were reevaluated the night Sousuke had his Goatse encounter. He stopped sleeping around as much shortly after. Yes, Café Fello's method of handling STDs is terrible, I know.
> 
> Background:  
> The plot originally involved Sousuke being courted by three hosts [Kisumi, Haru, and Rin] but I threw that idea out real quick in order to give the story a tighter focus and also because I wouldn't have been able to resist imaging Rin in maximum overslut mode and it would've taken me an eternity to finish.
> 
> Café Fello is functionally a host club that offers sexual services, so figuring out what the pricing should be was interesting. The type of people who are most susceptible to these types of services are not the wealthy, but the average guy who allows himself to be nickle-and-dimed to death for the sake of relaxing, so the basic service had to be affordable enough to seem reasonable. If someone wants to jump straight to the Cream Coffee, then that's cool, but their ideal client's thought process, much like Sousuke's in this, would be along the lines of, "10k is a lot, so I guess I'll go with the 5k option. Oh, I kinda like this guy, I want to spend more time with him, I'll get a couple extensions. I'm getting hungry, but I don't want to leave and waste the rest of the time I paid for, I guess I'll order something off their menu. I bet the host would like me more if I got him a drink." And so on and so forth. While that not might be a big deal if you do that once, if it becomes a habit, then your wallet's cruising for a bruising. 
> 
> This is something people do a lot because it's so easy to do. You could cook dinner or you could go out and eat. And while you're out, maybe you want to get a couple beers. Maybe you want dessert. Hey, the cinema is about to start a showing of that movie you wanted to see and you don't have work in the morning, you should go and see it—and get some popcorn and a slushie while you're at it. Or maybe you don't do all that stuff and instead you go to the grocery store and get some proper groceries and you happen to pick out some candy and a drink while you're waiting in the checkout line. There are plenty of industries that fully exploit these impulses and Japan's host club scene is one of them.
> 
> This turned out longer than I expected. Too much dicksucking to be contained within my normal limit—why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to put this many blowjobs in the same story—but even with this length I managed to go the entire story without describing a dick as sweaty. Good job me.
> 
> Criticism is not only welcome, but encouraged, and I'll answer any questions that you have. Thanks for reading.  
> 16 October 2016  
> \- 匿名重工業


End file.
